The temptation to transform the familiar work of a rock group into a musical often proves
irresistible; the results of that transformation not so much so.

We Will Rock You takes on the music of Queen for a rock musical that suffers the usual
problems: Songs that stand well on their own are shoe-horned into contexts where they make little
sense, and the anarchic heart of rock is reined in to fit the tight demands of a precisely timed
show.

This can work in a show like
Mamma Mia, where the music is orchestrated pop and the light-hearted, convoluted plot
winks at its own efforts to make songs work for its storyline.

It’s much less successful in
We Will Rock You, which is hampered by a self-congratulatory attitude towards its music,
as well as a tedious plot and even more tedious characters. Its tone varies wildly between comedy
loaded with easy targets and pretentious warnings about a mind-controlled future

Ben Elton’s two-act is set in a future where the evil Killer Queen (Jacqueline Arnold) and her
smarmy assistant (P.J. Griffith) rule all access to music on cyberspace, and nobody knows how to
create live music anymore.

Rebelling against them are hunky Galileo (Brian Crum) and snarky Scaramouche (Ruby Lewis), who
bicker and coo in typical romantic comedy style, and who eventually find their way to the Hard Rock
outpost where a group of “Bohemians” attired in costumes evoking rock in what’s assumed to be the
golden age of the seventies and eighties sift through the artifacts of the time, attempting to make
sense of them, and await the “Dreamer” who will bring rock back to life.

Elton’s book for the musical rests uneasily on the premise that all “rock” – a term so broad
that it includes Britney Spears, Katy Perry, and Justin Bieber – is created equal, and is equally
valuable. It’s set in a world where young women speak like Valley girls, where email is the hottest
means of communication, and where jokes about twerking are trendy, and where the ultimate act of
rebellion for young woman consists in putting on a tight bustier and torn stockings. It’s also a
world where the unredeemable villain is a powerful, sexy black woman.

Some of Queen’s songs are used effectively; others, less so.
Under Pressure sums up the feelings of the frustrated romantic pair when they first meet,
but
You’re My Best Friend makes less sense at a later point in their relationship. While it’s
fun to watch Arnold, one of the few real potential rockers in the crowd, do justice to
Fat Bottomed Girls, its inclusion is totally irrelevant.

Lewis has a supple voice and Crum a strong one, but their characters are so annoying and erratic
that it’s hard to care much about them. The show’s choreography is an uninspired blend of robotic
moves and hippie-ish free form. Garish video backgrounds supplement simple sets.

Those with fond memories of Queen would do well to avoid the show, and those without such
memories will wonder what the fuss was about.